#i've come full circle in some strange way

[mintflavoredfemurs]

sitting in the bus wearing a sans hoodie pulling out journal #3 from my backpack from the pocket that has a foxy keychain attached to the zipper

I am a monolith of my own love

[fraugwinska]

Week 2 everyone! Following Hazel's amazing Body Worship featuring our beloved king of hell, we'll continue this week in the same sentiment - Can there be really enough Lucifer x Reader stories?

Dont miss out on the wonderful works of our kinky coven: @hazelfoureyes @minkdelovely @sugoi-writes @macabr3-barbi3 @synamartia

Check out our Masterlist for Kinktober (A big thank you to the marvellous Syn - who also made out Banners!)

Warnings: Summoning Ritual, Manipulation and emotional Blackmail, Blood, Implied pressure for sexual acts. But with a happy end! And as usual: Minors Stay away - 🔞

"Fuck - It worked... It actually worked!"

You heard your boyfriend's voice, filled with heated excitement, but your eyes were glued to the glowing pentagram before you. That shouldn't be happening - this was supposed to be a silly game, a little make-pretend. You had felt bad, after denying him, again, what he had asked you so many times before. "Come on baby," he had begged, and while you liked him well enough, you hadn't been together for long and something in you told you to wait for you two to cross the border of having sex - It would be your first time, and fuck if people would call you prude, but giving it away meant something to you. It had to feel right. Be with the right person. And you and him weren’t there yet. So you had, hesitantly, agreed to his roleplay idea. You thought it was a bit excessive - the props he gathered, the seriousness in which he had chanted some silly things in latin - all while tying your hands and feet together in what you had thought would be just a dumb game of Fake summoning a demon to spice things up.

But this glowing portal was real, as was the euphoria so tangible in his voice. This hadn't been a game - he had planned this.

Through the bright, golden glow stepped a man - at least you thought it was a man. Lean and regal, dressed in a white, luxurious coat that strangely resembeled a circus director he shifted out of the light into your boyfriend's living room. His blonde hair shimmered in the fading glow and for once, you could see his face in full - And it was terrifyingly beautiful. Golden locks framed his burning red irises, two blush circles sat on the edges of his mouth that was pulled into a face of disdain.

Your boyfriend didn't even acknowledge your trembling whimpers, he just stepped forward, dropping the dagger he had used to prick your finger and let your blood drip on a strange book. "Lord Lucifer... It's an honor to..."

"Cut the Lord-crap, mortal. What the hell is this?" the blonde interrupted him, eyes widening at the sight of your bound and shivering body. He glanced from the dagger to the book to the young man before him and folded his arms. Your heart almost jumped out of your chest. That idiot actually summoned the literal devil? The fallen angel, the king of hell? What was he thinking?

"I've summoned you, Lor... Lucifer, to offer you a virgin in exchange for my own immortality!" His words made you whip your head around. Surely, you must've heard wrong. "Wh-what are you doing?" you asked in a rush of bubbling panic, fighting against the rope that held your arms together. Cold eyes met your pleading ones, and the hope that this would all turn out to be a joke faded completely.

"Sorry, Babe, but this is an opportunity I won't miss out on. You wanted to stay a virgin - and this way, I get something out of it."

"Okay, wait - just so that I get this correctly..." Lucifer stepped in, his eyes darting in disbelief between you and the caster of this wretched summoning ritual, his brows deeply furrowed. "You're offering your girlfriend to me? Are you serious?" His question was met with a hesitant nod, the sight making your stomach drop. The way he tricked you, the way he talked about you, the way he was casually offering you to a literal demon, as if he were selling some worthless thing when he was supposed to love and respect you - Everything inside you felt heavy with hurt and regret. Sure, you couldn't have said it was love you had felt for him - but you thought he'd at least care about you the way you had cared about him. Apparently, you were horribly wrong. Tears dripped silently down your cheeks and you wished for someone, anyone to help.

"I swear she is untouched, my lord, and even if she is plain and not quite the looker, she.."

"You humans are..." Lucifer's voice was filled with cold disgust as he searched for words. Finding none that would suffice, he just snapped his fingers, and you felt as if the air was sucked out of the room. Everything stood still, the fire of the candles in the room didn't move, the hands of the clock, even your boyfriend was frozen in place mid-gesture. Only his pupils shifted to the blonde in a panic, meeting the devil's angry stare. Lucifer shook his head, then he tore his eyes away from him and looked at you, instantly softening and with a pinch of pity as he slowly walked over to you. You flinched when he stretched out his hand, but he stopped and gave you a gentle smile.

"It's okay, doll, I'm not gonna do anything. Just getting rid of those ropes, okay?"

You nod, the wet streaks on your face cold and itchy. Small, delicate hands reach around your wrists, and within a blink the ties disappear. You quickly wipe your face and touch the bruised skin, cautiously rubbing the scratches as Lucifer unties your feet. "There, that's better, right?"

"What... what is happening?" you stutter, not daring to look directly at him, still overcome with the bizarreness of the situation. "Why has everything stopped.. moving?"

Lucifer huffs, offering you his hand and, after you hesitantly took it, pulled you up to stand. "I froze time. That asshole who dares to call himself your boyfriend pissed me off and that's one sure way to keep his rotten mouth shut." He cups your cheek, his hand is warm and soft and so gentle you almost lean in, and lets his thumb wipe away the remaining wet trails of salt, but a fresh flow of tears blur your vision. You struggle for words, but nothing but weak sobbing makes it out of your constricted throat. "I... I can't believe he..."

"I know, angel. I wish I could say he's an exception... but as you might suspect, I've known humanity and the endless depth of their deprivation for a while..." He sighs, stepping away from you. "What I can promise you is that I'm not going to hurt you. That dumb motherfucker might've summoned me correctly - but he sure as hell didn't read the fine print too closely." Lucifer grinned, for the first time this night he actually looked like the devil he was - and you were enraptured at the sight. "The one who offers the blood is the one who bargains a deal with me. And since he was too chicken to spill his own, that means it's you, doll." He laughs, crossing his arms, tilting his head to watch your boyfriend's eyes dart frantically through the room.

"So, it's up to you. Is there anything you want?"

You swallow, the heat of Lucifer's palm still lingering on your cheek and the betrayal burning deep in your guts.

"I..." you say, as if in trance, guided by the hurt and anger and that strange pull towards the demon, "I want to humiliate him. I want to make him regret what he wanted to do..." Lucifers gaze turned into something sinister and dangerous, and you quickly added "Without killing him. I don't want to... be like him."

The devil looks surprised, almost impressed, before he steps towards you once more, taking your hand and kissing it, an impish smile on his divine lips that made his features even more beautiful. "Mh, I do have an idea how we can arrange that. Just remember: You hold the reins to stop whenever you want to stop."

Before you could ask what he means, his mouth travels up your arm and to the crook of your neck, leaving kisses along its trail. Your whole skin breaks out in shivers, a gasp escapes you as you feel your cheeks flush and a heat pool in between your legs. His hands find their way onto your hips, resting instead of pulling, a gesture of such thoughtfulness and respect you could’ve wept and you feel yourself lean into him as he licks along your jawline. It feels daring, it feels strange and yet so alluring you can't help but sink deeper into that warm embrace. Whatever had held you back to give yourself to your now ex-boyfriend - it was nonexistent in the arms of this demon, and wasn't that a travesty? But then again... Lucifer was the personification of temptation afterall.

When he finally kisses you, it's like fireworks exploding in your head. The way his lips gently close around yours, the warmth and sweetness of his mouth, his skillful tongue parting them so effortlessly to slither around your own in playful circles, letting you taste him as he tasted you - there was nothing you could have imagined that would've compared to the intensity that a simple kiss from him conveyed. It wasn’t forced, like it always felt with your boyfriend, but an invitation, with no reproach if you’d decline it. 

"Lucifer.. please..." you breathe as you reluctantly break the kiss, overheated and desperate for air. Your hands act on their own, with a feverish urgency, down to the buckle of his pants. But Lucifer, his smile wide and sultry, caught them, pulling them up and around his shoulders with an almost scolding shake of his head.

"Oh no, angel, the only one that's gonna be worshiped tonight is you." He lifts you up with ease, drawing a little yelp out of you, and moves swiftly as he clears the living room table to spread you out on it, kneeling in between your legs. You're quivering with a hot, bubbling anticipation and even through your lust-dazed mind you still catch Lucifer's wicked glance and the mocking smirk in the direction of your ex-boyfriend.

Slowly, he pushed your white dress up exposing pale, supple skin. The devil's hands explored your thighs, every brush and caress making you writhe as the ache to be touched becomes stronger with every uncovered inch of flesh, and by the time he starts to slowly, achingly work his fingers around your hips, you're already squirming for him, begging him for any kind of friction.

"I'm gonna carve prayers onto your body, my angel," he breathes against the sensitive inside of your thigh, littering it with tiny pecks before he bites down, sharply enough to leave a red mark - it pulls a moan out of you, then an aroused sigh as Lucifer soothingly licks over the reddened skin and slowly kisses his way towards your center. The devil delights at your little noises of want, how you whimper as he pushes your underwear aside instead of tearing it off to the side - though it wouldn't hold for long anyway. "Your body is my temple and your moans the hymns I sing to."

His words send a new kind of electric buzz straight to your cunt, you wanted to say something in return - heaven or hell knows what - but it was a useless endeavor anyway. The words were already forgotten when his tongue dipped into your waiting heat - you buck into him and it earns you a muffled hum of appreciation. Lucifer's movements were slow, languid and at the same time utterly determined. A steady rhythm as his hands found their way back to your hips, pinning you down so that all you could do was take the sweet torture and drown in the pleasure he delivered to you on a golden plate. And so you did. Every swirl of that wicked, sinful tongue drew louder noises from you, every press of his lips to your soaked pussy had your head spinning into overwhelmed euphoria.

Through the haze of your foggy eyes you catch a glimpse of the frozen man you had called 'baby' once. Shocked, unbelieving eyes fixated on you writhing under Lucifer's incomparable ministrations, being expertly eaten out by temptation itself in the form of the most beautiful being imaginable - and a moan that almost sounded like a laugh tore itself from your throat. The sudden wave of pride and morbid joy, combined with a flick of the damned forked tongue over your clit and his name spilling from your lips along with your drool has you cumming in what you could only describe as ethereal bliss - your hand finds Lucifer's hair, digging your fingers into the golden locks and holding him tightly pressed to your seeping core as the waves of your orgasm rock your hips like a boat lost on the ocean - and Lucifer, your lighthouse illuminating your way home, laps up every drop of your essence your body offers him.

By the time you were done riding out your orgasm, Lucifer's skilled tongue had cleaned every bit of the mess you had made. He pressed a soft kiss on your puffed lips, before slowly pulling away onto his knees to look at you, wiping his mouth and watching you with hooded, smoldering eyes.

"Look at you, angel. Only a mortal fool would call something so ethereal as you 'plain'."

Lucifer stands up and leans over to brush the back of his hand softly over your cheek until his fingers rest under your chin, lifting your head ever so slightly to kiss you once more before he turns to your ex. His posture changes, his shoulders straighten and his features become sharp and almost threatening. You try to sit up, body still weak post-orgasm, as you watch him sprout two twisted, fiery horns from his head and three sets of blinding white and red wings from his back. The room is slowly filled with a light like the inside of a fire - you faintly hear a muffled, horrified scream from the immobilized figure behind you, but you couldn't care less. Your sole focus is him - the fallen angel and ruler of hell.

"Remember that you deserve nothing less than what you received tonight, doll."

"Lucifer..." is all you get to say before he spreads his wings and the world turns white.

You shot up, the blanket over your legs falling from the sofa you push yourself up on. The room was quiet and dim, only the light from a few candles making rough shadows dance on the walls. You panted, as if waking up from an intense dream, strands of your hair glued to your neck and cheeks from the sweat. Your head whipped around calling his name, but your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. For a moment, you questioned your sanity when you felt something tickling your thigh. You shifted and reached under you, and your mouth pulled into a wistful smile as you brought the soft, white feather you found to your lips for a longing, bittersweet kiss.

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

i was talking about how i like to have s1 trent get his brains kissed out (bc he deserves it) and also how if it's ted like. the earlier in the season it is the funnier it becomes. when you're not taking it too seriously. ANYWAY. and now i'm thinking about like. okay, so, ted charms trent pretty early. obviously. he wins him over in episode three, with the interview, but i think he was already at least a little bit reluctantly charmed by his second press conference in episode two. now, i've done plenty of scenarios where they meet pre-canon/ep1 for whatever reason, and i've done plenty where they end up kissing/become closer than in canon during s1. usually during or after episode three. however i am now thinking of what would happen if they somehow met, in a relatively in private, non-professional, one-on-one (or with only their kids, no other adults?) context, etc, between episode one and two, when trent's opinion of him is at the lowest it ever gets (and honestly, probably vice versa, too). and i am just... spinning that.

because, i mean. you know ted's gonna charm him. even if he isn't trying quite as hard without the interview giving him a direct reason, he's gonna charm him. just by being his kind, goofy self, he's gonna charm him, and without the interview to give context and reason to be talking professionally--assuming they are still talking and not avoiding each other, for whatever contrived reason--it's gonna put poor trent in such a snit. liking ted personally, so much, and not knowing how to handle it because as far as he's concerned, this is still someone who is putting the team and everyone who cares about it in a bad situation, but also, even after talking to the man for a few hours, it's already hard to believe he would do that. trent catching on to the fact ted lasso is smarter than he pretends, catching on to the fact that nice and kind and positive attitude is at least mostly if not completely and utterly sincere, and all that--just a little bit earlier. not enough to really make a difference in canon but. idk man. a) assuming this is a barely canon divergent thing it's just kind of fun to imagine that happening b) however back on my s1 trent gets kissed agenda i have literally no idea what circumstances could possibly arise to make that happen however i am CACKLING at the thought.

ANYWAY, back to the point: i just think there's something kind of compelling about that. between episodes one and two, when both of them have the lowest opinion of the other they will ever have, meeting in some innocuous way and being helplessly, unwillingly charmed. ted sees That One Reporter outside the press room only he's affectionately wrestling a frog hat onto a small child, grinning at her when she boops his nose, and can't help a smile at the reminder that even the coldest, rudest people are people, capable of kindness and goofiness, and he hadn't forgotten but it's still nice to see. trent, confronted with the full blast beam of The Lasso Effect right to the face and up close and outside of the press room, away from where he feels most confident, off duty and balance, sans notebook and pen, stumbling just a little into awkwardness, the edge of rudeness that comes from dislike that's tempered by some standard of british politeness and a hint of confusion and then quickly melted away entirely into utter bewilderment and oddly endeared charm, because what. trent crimm has no idea what to think of him. ted finds he actually likes trent, quite a bit--their conversation, however odd, had been entertaining, and despite their, uh, eventful, less-than-ideal first impression, ted may or may not have a favorite journo suddenly. because that sharp-cutting no-holds-barred journo from the press room is also strangely warm, and perpetually bewildered at the smallest kindnesses, and a good dad, nevermind that ted's heart is aching interacting with little kids like that.

idk man i'm just going in circles here i'm rotating and spinning because something something each seeing a better side to the other just a teensy bit earlier and it doesn't really change that much in the long run, unless it does; something something ted has only seen trent once, at his worst, being outright hurtful, and now here they are outside of that context, and trent has only reasons to think ted's incompetent, careless, greedy, an asshole, or some combination of the four, and yet here they are, and just. idk man! something

[lou-struck]

Are You Watching?

Katsuki Bakugou x reader

~ Bakugou has never seen your favorite movie before, and so you end up watching him more than the movie.

Genre: Fluff

a/n: I do this alot, I just get so excited when I’m watching one of my favorite movies with someone I want to know that they are liking it.

As you walk through your front door and kick off your shoes that just don't quite fit right, you are hit with an overwhelming sense of victory.

Today was a bitch, but you made it through unscathed.

That in itself calls for a celebration of self-care. With Katsuki still out on patrol for a bit, you decide to slip into something cozy, get yourself a big bowl of microwavable popcorn, and take out your stack of DVDs.

But these aren't just any DVDs; these are your favorite comfort movies, the kind you can watch anytime and never get bored. You know every line by heart, quoting the lines under your breath and laughing in anticipation of your favorite scenes.

You've only been watching for twenty minutes or so, but your mood has already been raised up out of the gutters of exhaustion and disappeared when you first came home.

"Oi, what are you watching?" a familiar guff voice calls from behind you, sending elated prickles over your skin as your turn around.

Katsuki Bakugou, your boyfriend leans up against the doorway, he looks so natural, but you have a feeling he posed himself that way to look cool in front of you. You pause the movie and turn your full attention to your handsome partner, who looks just as exhausted as you did earlier.

"Suki, I didn't hear you come in." you smile, scooting over on the couch. "Get changed and come watch these with me."

"Haven't you seen this one before?" he yells from down the hall, already changing into his comfy clothes. He loves watching movies with you; it makes him feel normal after a long day dealing with the worst society has to offer.

"Yeah, so? It's one of my favorites," you call back defensively. "What's the big deal?"

"I just don't get how you can watch the same damn movie so many times," he grumbles, coming back into the living room wearing a black shirt and some flannel pajama bottoms you got him for Christmas last year. He is already looking more relaxed than he did before. Off in the distance, you can barely make out the sound of the washing machine buzzing to life, cleaning the rest of the day out of his hero costume.

"But you haven't seen it yet." you giggle, flipping up the mountain of blankets dramatically so he can get under them with you, patting the now open spot with your other hand.

He chuckles amusedly and joins you on the couch. His warmth comforts you in a different way than the blankets have as you breathe in his familiar scent. "This is much better," you sigh as his arm wraps around you. You place your head on his chest, your favorite kind of pillow.

"Bad day?" he asks, gently rubbing circles onto your skin.

"Not the best," you admit, shuddering at the memories from earlier today. You'd tell him all the annoying details later, but now, unwinding is the priority. "You?"

"It was pretty shitty, but I've had worse," he responds flatly. You believe him; the news coverage today told you all you needed to know about his bad day. 

"Then I guess we can just stay here until it all goes away," you chuckle, reaching for the remote and pressing play. Bakugou wouldn't admit it out loud, but the idea of just staying here on the couch, cozy with you in his arms, is the perfect ending to any day, no matter how shitty it was. 

Your conversation dies down as you both watch the movie. It really is the kind that you can watch over and over again. 

You think to yourself that it's strange that even after watching this movie in your living room so many times, Katsuki has never seen it for himself.

Wait, if he hasn't seen it before, that means he doesn't know about The Twist. 

You find your eyes drifting from the screen over to his handsome face. His crimson gaze remains transfixed on the screen in front of him. There is something so satisfying about watching someone watch your favorite movie so intently. Even if it's one he would not choose to watch himself.

You know what's going to happen, so you don't need to be watching as close. Katsuki is much more interesting right now. How will he react? Some of your friends said that the Twist was predictable, but others said they had no idea it was coming. The anticipation of it all makes you look at him even more intensely. 

Sensing your gaze on him, he turns his head towards you. "What are you looking at?" he huffs, "Do I have somethin on my face?"

"No," you say, looking away quickly, "It's nothing; keep watching."

He shrugs it off and returns his attention to the screen. You try and focus on the movie, but you can't help it; you have to see what he thinks about the Twist. You have to see his face. You shamelessly bring your gaze back over to him, only to find that he is not looking at the screen at all. His eyes are on you.

"Suki, you're not watching; this is important," you whine dramatically as if you are not the whole reason he is distracted in the first place.

He tsks, "How am I supposed to watch the damn movie if you're staring at me like that?" his voice rising in volume. 

"Just pay attention," you pout, crossing your arms over your chest., "I just wanted to see what you thought about the next part. It's my favorite."

His gaze softens as he tries to untangle your crossed arms. "Such a weirdo," he chuckles, leaning over and giving your cheek a quick kiss. "I'm watchin, I Promise."

Despite the dry air outside, his lips are still soft and smooth against your skin. You uncross your arms and return to your previous position on top of him. "You gotta watch," you mumble, trying to discreetly look at him and the screen at the same time.

And then it happens—the Twist. 

The main character being betrayed by their own best friend. You've seen this part so many times you could quote it word for word. But Katsuki…

"Where the Hell did that come from," he yells, sitting up quickly, ruining your comfortable resting spot against him. His mouth is agape, and his eyes are wide as he stares back at you, hoping for some sort of explanation. His features then go from shock to loving irritation as he ruffles your hair on top of your head. "You were waiting for me to watch this, weren't you?" 

"I knew you'd be surprised," you grin cheekily. Trying to bat away his hand from your head. "There were a few hints earlier on that make more sense."

"What hints?" he asks, narrowing his eyes and biting the inside of his cheeks as he tries to recall any sort of detail that would lead to the reveal of this betrayal. Obviously, he is still very troubled by the turn of events. "I didn't see any damn hints. Gimme the remote; we are watching this thing again."

[wonryllis]

moots as songs

、ㅤ🌺 ⋆ ࣪ 午 MOOTS AS KPOP SONGS ᵎᵎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀

i went with the vibes they give off, and added some lyrics to highlight it!! tried to do as many mooties i could i hope you all like it!! i excluded those who have been inactive for long and those i ain't interacting with that much, hope you understand > 3 < love you all! ( MUTUALS )

✶ @jaesvelvet better things by aespa . . that i, i-i got better things to do with my time. better things to do with my time, do with my time than you

✶ @luvhyun3 tomboy by g-idle . . it's not here, i'm not a doll. yeah, i'm a fucking tomboy! this is my attitude, yeah, i'll be the tomboy

✶ @ctrlemis jopping by superm . . champagne life, that's all you want. don't stop letting it go 'cause we got that glow

✶ @enhalpy love letter by bol4 . . so warm like you, you are my sunshine, i’ll do anything. feel like i feel like i’m surfing your love, feel like i’m reaching the moon

✶ @nyukyujs love scenario by ikon . . we met and became a memory that can't be erased. it was a commendable melodrama, a pretty good ending.

✶ @koishua quarter life by tomorrow by together . . it feels like i'm walking in place, quarter life crisis. thrown into a life without an exit, on this road that doesn't know the end

✶ @boyfhee you & me by jennie . . i love you and me, dancing in the moonlight. nobody can see, it's just you and me tonight. just a little touch my world stops

✶ @okwonyo my world by illit . . this is my world, it might seem a little strange. this is my world, this is truly the real me. each moment is my overindulgence, why does it seem strange? this is me. let me show you my world

✶ @atrirose either way by ive . . some say i sound full of myself, that i'm just showing off. it's not about who's right or wrong, just like how we all love differently

✶ @eeunoia inception by ateez . . feel like dreaming a dream i've never seen even in dreams, it's too vivid to conclude it as just a dream. you are the dream i live in, the dream i can never awake from

✶ @leaderwon hard to love by blackpink . . i'll make it feel like heaven, but i swear i'm not a saint. and you won't see the truth 'causе i'll be kissing it away

✶ @tyunni new jeans by new jeans . . look, it's a new me, switched it up, who's this? new hair, new tee, new jeans, do you see? so fresh, so clean, make it feel like a game

✶ @jjunae pop by nayeon . . baby, baby, you're out of control. so you're under my control. before the excitement stops, i wanna make it pop, pop, pop, you want it?

✶ @stariekis one spark by twice . . i wish for forever, yes, forever. we're sparkling beautifully, i'm sure it'll be beautiful. cause my heart is burning, burning, burning. even if it’s dazzlingly beautiful and painful, it’s our golden days

✶ @lheebra don't wanna cry by seventeen . . i think it will show up, just wait. i have to find you, i have to find you. because if i cry now, i might not be able to see you. i don't want to cry

✶ @isoobie smart by le sserafim . . i am a child who will become a butterfly. what i want is victory. i'm a smarter baby, smarter, i see through it and break through.

✶ @fakeuwus cupid by fifty fifty . . a hopeless romantic all my life, surrounded by couples all the time. so skeptical of love, but still, i want it more, more, more. i gave a second chance to cupid

✶ @lilyuwon flower by jisoo . . guided by the gently blowing wind, because you're the one who doesn't catch it. spring comes, only the scent of flowers remains

✶ @ms-no1kpopstan darari by treasure . . i watched you, i was too stunned to speak, it still circling around you. i can't take my eyes off you

✶ @theyluvvaubery really really by winner . . the most beautiful thing in my eyes right now is you lady, oh. if my feelings for you were money, i would be a billionaire

✶ @jungqkook true by yaori . . tell me the truth, this is the end. i feel like losing myself. can't find my way, to not lose you, why is it so complicated?

✶ @heesbaby run bts by bts . . if we live fast, let us die young. two bare feet are our gasoline, yeah, yeah. let's go, are you ready? run bulletproof, run, yeah, you gotta run

✶ @heelvsted maverick by the boyz . . super villain in the mirror, i run away, chasing, farther away. super bad trouble, i'm just on my way. cut out the scenes from a corny hero movie. everything's just a game to me,

✶ @cornenhapovs loco by itzy . . surrounded by my thoughts of ya, i think i'm a little obsessed, i feel like i was born to love ya. such a rush, you're making me lose my mind

✶ @taeghi celebrity by iu . . have no idea above your lowered head what the bright lights are (shining towards) it's fine to take your time but i hope you notice, at last. the one and only

✶ @jaylaxies step back by got the beat . . you'd better shut your mouth and stand back or else give it a go. try climbing your way up hereYou can't even dream about this level, this isn't the place for you

✶ @moon7jay monster by exo . . why is my heart racing? you’re beautiful, my goddess. i’ll knock so will you let me in? you’ve already fallen for me, don’t be afraid, love is the way

✶ @alvojake pandora by mave . . everyone is heartless but so we are fearless. no one can stop us, never been so careless. hold on tight, string of our hope, so let us sing, say my name. shout it out, let me hear that thing

✶ @sserasin future by red velvet . . don't let me forget my dream where the stars are pouring down, we will end up together. you are another future of mine, a way for love to last forever

[two-white-butterflies]

false god | d. targaryen

Description: The Prince of Dragonstone falls in love with a singer. In which, you are forced to choose between family and ambition.

Rating: Teen [angst, suggestive themes]

Author's Note: inspired by the people who enjoyed 'm*therfucking starboy' 😭

The Japanese have a theory - everyone's little finger is tied to another person's little finger - a person that they would fulfill an important story beside. "Do you believe in fate?" your boyfriend inquires with a strangely stoic facade. "Yes," you whispered in return, placing the book on the table so that you'd be able to give him your full attention. "- and you know that I'll do anything for you." he prefaced, quickly sitting down on the empty spot beside you.

He reaches for your hands, playing with your pinkie finger.

"What's wrong? Is this because of the meeting?" you inquired, knowing that he was always frustrated after a council meeting. "We've been planning to announce our engagement for quite some time now - supposed to be last year, right?" he flicked a piece of your hair away from your face.

Oh, the proposition was far too familiar.

"Yes, we had to take some time because of Baela's birth." you adjusted your collar, intrigued as to where the conversation may lead to. "Well, the King has levied a condition - one that the council members sought to agree with without my permission." he rubbed soft circles on your palms - eyes flickering between your eyes and your palms. "What is it?" you asked.

"They do not want you to have a career outside royal duties." he breathed, waiting slowly for your anticipated reaction. "What!" you questioned sharply - feeling the atmosphere thicken with every move. "They asked me to delete my instagram and, to move countries - and I've done that. Why am I not allowed to have the only thing that I'm proud of?" you argued.

He places both of his hands on your shoulders, pulling you closer to welcome you into a warm embrace. "I'm not here to take their side - matter of fact, fuck them. If you want to keep singing, then we'll face them - I'll be beside you while we defend our rights." he comforted.

Daemon studied his past - he studied other country's history. This wasn't the first time that royals were asked to give a part of their soul away - but he wanted this to be the last in his family.

"That's not possible," Viserys smiled bitterly, stirring his coffee while exchanging a knowing glance with his brother. "- the council will laugh - and our approval rates will go down. This is monarchy, it requires decorum and respect." he added, quickly shooting down his brother's hopes of equity. As the Crown Prince of Westeros, Viserys was exposed to the harsh reality of royal life.

'Kings exists so that no man would imagine themselves as King.'

They were statues. A placeholder - not holding real power. Mere puppets to calm the crowd down. It was a job. A chore.

"Brother, when I was having scandals after scandals - I was not given a lecture about decorum. But my fiancee wishes to retain her lifestyle, and suddenly - decorum is in question?" Daemon placed a hand on your back, posture tall and proud.

"I do not like the role that you are giving me, Daemon. I am not the villain." Viserys frowned, reading his brother like an open book. "- but you are siding with them, you agree with them." his brother insinuated - frustration as thin as the chances of your victory.

"Because they are right!" Viserys raised his voice, you are taken aback. "Is there any other way?" you ask - unable to grasp the calamity of the situation. You gave your blood, sweat and tears to have a singing career - you only have one album out, and everything was already beginning to come crashing down.

"Yes, leave the royal family." Aemma opened her mouth, she enters the room with a book at hand. "Aemma," her husband antagonized. "We'll do it. We'll tender our resignation," Daemon's lips settled into a thin line. "Now, wait a minute." Viserys rose to his feet.

"Thank you," Daemon says sarcastically, pulling you away.

King Baelon places a bar of sugar inside his tea. He liked sweet things, and he was known as the family's sweet tooth. A clear opposite of his personality. He was sour.

"Leave the royal family? Are you jesting, my son?" he interrogated, feeling the entire family's eyes on the both of them. "I am not, kepa." Daemon responded - reaching for his fountain pen and signing a contract. "We live in the 21st Century. Monarchy shouldn't exist." he insulted, flipping the folder and pointing at the empty space where his father could sign.

"All of this for a girl." Baelon glanced at you. "Aemma is a cardiothoracic surgeon, top of her class in Harvard. Her professors told me that she had potential to be the greatest surgeon in the country - but she stopped, because she knew how important this institution is. She didn't ask me to continue her career - she stopped without my question." he quickly compared, and Aemma looks at the ground.

"I will not sign this. (Your Name), you are clever and easy on the eyes. You'll find someone better than my son. If you wish to continue your career, you will leave - and if you love my son, you will stay." Baelon narrowed his eyes, staring at every micro gesture that you made. Daemon glanced at you - you loved him deeper than the ocean.

But there was only one choice.

ynissinging: so glad to be back

0 comments 912,219 likes

comments are restricted.

Daemon knew that you'd leave him the moment he heard about his father's condition. Your worst fear was turning into someone that you hated - someone that was bending over her ass to please another person. He couldn't blame you - you've already sacrificed so much for him. Five years of putting your career on hold - three years waiting until he announced your engagement.

"You should've ran away," his niece sat beside him, taking his whiskey from the table and taking a slow sip. "Rhaenyra," he warned - knowing that she wasn't allowed to drink alcohol. "Fucking institution. All is does is suck us dry," she cursed, returning the whiskey back to its original place. "Is that how the future queen speaks?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I'll never be queen and you know that." she bit her lower lip, already missing the times that you'd comfort her. "Grandfather is pressuring my mom to have another child. IVF, surrogate - anything so that no one has to deal with a female ruler." she rolled her eyes. She yearned for a universe where her mother wasn't forced to live this life.

Daemon glanced at his niece. A fear that he knew all too well.

"Leave this country, I'm sure that they wouldn't bother looking for you." she scoffed, leaning on the couch while the servants prepared their meals downstairs. "Judging from the ones before me - I'm not sure that's going to be a good idea," he answered.

The media storm that would follow him was damning. He wouldn't risk your safety for temporary happiness.

"It's a better idea than staying here. Aunt Y/N's is smart, she'll probably speak in one of those charity organizations. UNICEF or something - just like Angelina Jolie did - so that no one would bash her for being Pitt's other woman." she attempted to sound smart.

"That's not very feminist of you," he rolled his eyes.

Running away was the last thing on his mind.

"- but it makes sense." she defended herself.

"I'm not running away, Rhaenyra." he stared at her, convincing himself that it wasn't the best course of action. "If you're not running away - then do something that'll annoy them." she rose to her feet, marching away from him defeatedly.

royalfamilyicons: HRH Princess Rhaenyra speaks about sexism.

9 comments 12,495 likes

ilikeit12: this is someone i can get behind

ohhhohh: Y/N also hinted abt sexism in the royal family 😭 I have a feeling that she's right.

RhaenyraQueen23: She's the one that will save us FR

royalfamilyicons: King Baelon I about the recession and how the government plans to reduce it.

0 comments 89 likes

LEAKED PHONE CALLS BETWEEN HRH PRINCESS RHAENYRA AND Y/N L/N. (by anon)

HRH PRINCESS RHAENYRA: They're all fucking awful. I feel like a placeholder until [mom] gives birth to a son.

Y/N L/N: You're not a placeholder, Aemma and Vis love you. It's normal to feel this way, but everyone in Westeros knows that you'll make a great Queen.

HRH PRINCESS RHAENYRA: It's not them, I'm worried about - it's the family. They're all living in the victorian era. Infuriating.

Y/N L/N: I'm sure that they'll choose you. You'll be fine.

HRH PRINCESS RHAENYRA: Britain has already passed a law about the succession thing, no more male preferred bullshit - but Westeros doesn't want to do that. And you know exactly why.

Y/N L/N: Okay ... I get you, but let's meet up somewhere. I don't wanna talk over the phone.

HRH PRINCESS RHAENYRA: Mkay, byee

Y/N L/N: Bye!

rhaenyrafamilysupremacy: THE WORST PART IS, I'M ON RHAENYRA'S SIDE FOR ONCE LOL

RosaRosa8: they're making sense #abolishthemonarchy

"I'm really sorry about the leaked phone call, someone must've wiretapped me." you scratched the back of your head. Daemon offers you a glass of lemonade. "It's alright, the PR team is working overtime - and the King refuses to talk to us." he tilted his head.

"Which honestly isn't even that bad because I don't speak to him much." Rhaenyra slumped on her chair, unbothered with the recent turn of events. "So, all hopes are gone?" you chuckled, sitting on the chair beside her. Daemon nods his head.

"Unfortunate for them, but fortunate for us." he smiled.

A simple smile that led you towards relapsing. Relapsing into his love. Falling back into his arms. If only you knew that 7-months after your supposed breakup. You'd be back with him.

hrhprincessrhaenyra: mansplain, manipulate, manslaughter. @ynissinging @dukeofdragonstoneofficial

928 comments 923,348 likes

iliketoeatapples: ARIANA WHAT R U DOING HERE 😭

rhaenyralover33: Queen Rhaenyra ever since she got full control of her instagram: 💅🏻

hrhprincessrhaenyra: Yes, they're back together. You didn't hear it from me.

PRINCESS RHAENYRA PUSHES FOR A BILL THAT DISSOLVES MALE PRIMOGENITURE.

part two soon the 35 degree weather isn't letting me process anything.

[moonchild505]

Vivid shadows 2024 day 1

I'd been working as a night shift security guard for most of my adult life. It was most often a lonely job but I think I've found the one I want to stay at for as long as I can. See only most often is it a lonely job but some nights here I'm not alone far from it.

I can almost always expect a friendly visit from some ghosts. I was worried at first all those stories about how scary ghosts can be how often they are held back in the world by revenge, having spoken with the few who spoke English that's far from the truth. Most just come to remember beautiful scenery from when they were a live. I do try to console some who have lost those places especially where this facility is built now. Ghosts are just see through people at the end of the day.

The witch who apparently lives in the nearby town comes to visit often, her name was Ophelia. She was there for ritual ingredients I don't really understand much of it. She's even come over on full moons to convene with her covenant some are ghosts some not. From what I understand the coven has been a big part of this facility for a few decades now. They didn't build the place but they threatened curses if the building broke their covenant circle. So legally they own a small open grove in the middle of the building.

They actually protected quite a lot of paranormal creatures with their agreement. Pixies being one of them. They like ghosts don't fully match their mythical portrayals and I should've listened when the witches first warned me to keep my distance. They bite it turns out and hard, you end up with some magical affliction for a while after, when they bit me my hair took on the properties of a mood reader. It would shift hues based on my current temperament or well mood. Those few weeks were a bit embarrassing being so easy to read for Ophelia . The ghosts never commented much which I was thankful for.

Ophelia started to visit more often, at first I just thought she had a more demanding ritual so she needed to collect more from the grove or collect some loose ectoplasm. Then I noticed she wasn't taking anything with her, one day leaving something behind. I tried to call out to her about the basket she left behind, though I missed her as it wasn't long after she flew off on her broom that she was out of ear shot. I tried waiting for my shift to end to return the basket, but curiosity got the better of me and I took a peak inside there was just a small vial of a shifting liquid inside. The shift came to an end and I began to make my way into town to find her. She did say she lived in one of the apartments in the complex in town.

I made my way down to the complex not having been there before, I'd not seen much of this town before really I didn't live here it was quite nice and I wondered what other supernatural things live here. The complex looked like any other. Making my way inside I made my way over getting a bit lost with the confusing numbering system before finding my way to her door. I knocked on the door and it opened much faster than I expected, I got to see Ophelia in a much more normal outfit. Some t-shirt for a band I hadn't heard of and some jeans.

"You forgot this." I handed the basket back a bit sheepishly. She gave me a rather strange look before speaking, "You didn't read the note?" It was my turn to give a confused look now. I showed her the contents of the basket and it just having the vial inside. She turned around to look inside I could spy a small envelope inside over her shoulder, she just replied with "Oh."

I stood outside of her apartment for a while before breaking the silence, "Could I come inside and read the note?"

"I mean the note was just an invitation to come over for some dinner, or I guess breakfast I don't know." Ophelia spoke softly but offered for me to come inside.

We did end up having dinner and while it was a bit awkward to start it wasn't long before we were talking about the things we enjoyed. I ended up listening to her talk about potion making for what felt like hours. I didn't mind it was nice to get a peak into her specialty as a witch. After that she gestured to the small colour shifting vial I had brought back. She encouraged me to drink it saying it would do the same thing the pixie did but just for a day. She said I was cute during that month I couldn't help but blush but it was a bit encouraging to try out the vial.

I did end up drinking the vial but it wasn't the only thing we drank that night, we ended up finishing some cheap beers off together and some other heavier more expensive drinks.

It wasn't long before the night was a blur but I enjoyed her company the whole time, later waking up sharing her bed with her arms gently wrapped around me. It was enough to make any trans girl explode including myself. I saw some of my magically altered hair was practically glowing pink. The only thing stopping me from exploding was the slight hangover clanging in my head.

I felt her stir and while I couldn't see her expression a soft giggle and her calling me cute again gave me an idea of what her expression was. I felt her get up out of bed eventually returning with 2 black vials. She tossed one to me on the bed and began to drink the one she held onto. I followed suit after watching her drink for a bit longer than I intended.

My hangover simply disappeared as I swallowed the liquid quite thankful even though it was quite light.

The rest of the day was quite lovely before I had to leave to get ready for work. But I knew going forward Ophelia would probably visit more often and I was going to enjoy those visits more.

[briar-ffxiv]

FFXIV Write #14 - Telling

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

Prompt #14 - Telling

Notes: Based on THIS STORY, which both @orime-stories and @calico-heart showed me and totally inspired me.

Briar hummed softly to himself as he pushed the broom, gathering dust and dirt to sweep out the open backdoor of the cottage. It was a habit instilled by his mother since he was a child. Saule had been a healer and very aware of the dangers of dirt and grime to both wounds and food. Even years after she was gone, Briar did it at the same time, in the same way she had. It was a way of keeping her memory close as much as his home clean.

The task had been done hundreds of times and thus Briar's mind was on other things. He was considering what to make for dinner when a loud, indignant 'baa' jerked his eyes toward the door. His first thought was something was the matter with his sheep, but he wasn't prepared to see a sheep trotting right into his kitchen! Followed by another and yet another and even more still. In less than a minute five sheep milled around the small cottage, bleating and snorting and looking rather puzzled.

Briar stood still in shock, mouth opened because he did not recognize any of these sheep. He knew every single one of his little herd of nine at a glance, most of them being pregnant ewes this late in the year. The five before him were yearling lambs and he had kept none from his herd this season. So the half-Elezen had no idea where these sheep were from or how they were suddenly in his very house!

At least until a delighted bark sounded from the backdoor. Briar stared yet again as Jack wiggled his backend happily, tongue lolling out in a doggy grin of delight. He woofed and pranced a bit, clearly very, very proud of himself for finding more sheep to bring to his master.

"Jack!" Briar said with exasperation and confusion. "What-- How-- Where did you…" He trailed off, wincing as dirty hooves tracked on his clean floor and things were bumped by the sheep as they nosed around. "Oh no. Jack! Jack, come by!"

Still well-pleased with himself, Jack loped forward, following Briar's direction to circle and drive the sheep back out. Not wanting them to run into the Black Shroud and find themselves eaten, Briar called his little sheepdog to round them up and finally settled for putting them in the corner pasture. He didn't have a lot of room in the little meadow he lived in, but he had divided it into three pastures so he could rotate the herd and keep them from overgrazing. A little whisper of Earth-based magicks also helped the soil to heal and the grass to grow with Briar's help.

He didn't want to put the strange sheep in with his pregnant herd since he had no way of knowing yet which was rams, nor if any were sick. So to the far corner, they went to keep a safe distance. He wasn't going to risk his beloved herd for the strangers.

"There's no telling where they might have come from," Briar muttered to himself, making sure the trough was clean and full. The five yearlings were quick to drink and happy to graze. To make sure they had plenty, he tossed some hay out with them as well. It was growing cooler as autumn turned to winter, but still warm enough that with their woolly coats they would be fine.

"Now what?" Briar groaned, leaning on the fence and frowning at the young sheep that Jack had somehow brought home. He looked down at the dog, frowning a little but he couldn't truly be upset. No doubt to Jack, these sheep were strays and his instincts were to bring them somewhere safe. "Silly boy," he whispered, patting Jack's head. "I just hope some angry owner does not track them down and think I've stolen them."

Shaking his head, Briar turned away, whistling for Jack to follow. "I'll worry about what to do with them in the morning. For now…I have to clean my floor. Again."

[creature-wizard]

Hello, your special interest in conspiracy theories might prove insightful for my predicament.

i've been having very strange things happening to me from a young age, and only in the past few years have i begun to accept them and embrace them. however, whenever i try to search for any information about them, i find these new age conspiracy rabbit-holes that as you've made clear are just thinly veiled white supremacist nonsense.

I wonder if transcendent experiences (in my case having direct, regular and positive interaction with a caring nonhuman entity as well as accurate premonitions for largely mundane future events) are not that uncommon but we either push them to the back of our mind and make them out to be wishful thinking or odd quirks of the brain.

That therein I think may be one of the reasons why the new age cult is the monster it is today: a vacuum of explanation and community for the very real and unexplainable experiences people leads them to new age sooner or later. In these rabbit-holes I often found people speaking of very similar experiences to mine but immediately attributing it to explanations provided by this cult, ones that i felt very deep in my gut to be bullshit.

Do you think the apprehension to discuss & believe genuine spiritual experiences for fear of a loss of acceptance by your peers is detrimental to non-new age spiritual communities? I observe that online pagan, witch, etc circles are rife with this apprehension, of either accepting their or others experiences, either actively or passively by adjusting language used to appeal to the assumed skepticism of the audience. New age, on the other hand, appeared to be far more accepting of the reality of these experiences.

A general unwillingness to consider strange and seemingly inexplicable events (spiritual experiences, UFO encounters, etc) without trying to apply a "rational" yet wholly inadequate explanation is absolutely a problem. The people who do this aren't even necessarily trying to be dismissive, but it can still often feel that way.

Meanwhile, New Age and the conspiracysphere in general will usually provide some sort of explanation that at least feels adequate, especially to those who aren't particularly scientifically or historically literate. (Although some people are so desperate that they'll set aside their scientific and historical knowledge.) New Age alien mythology, for example is of course chock full of nonsense, but it's still more validating than "you hallucinated it" or "you just saw a normal aircraft."

That said, I also don't think this is the only problem. People in general are just uncomfortable with not having answers, and don't really understand how having no answer is better than having a bad answer. Furthermore, people often perceive scientists as waffly and ignorant because scientists have a much better understanding of how much they don't know than the average person, and are therefore more hesitant to give firm answers; whereas conspiracy theorists, who are often incredibly ignorant as to how much they just don't understand, will just trumpet their beliefs with absolute certainty, and thus feel more likely to be right.

Overall I'd say there's a big cloth mother/wire mother problem going on, where New Age conspirituality often provides comfort and validation where more critical viewpoints typically do not.

Sometimes, people's egos just get in the way, like the person who has an incredibly vivid experience where they perceive a divine being telling them they're the reincarnation of Jesus Christ, and doesn't want to hear that maybe their experience shouldn't be taken at face value, and maybe they shouldn't go and start a cult over it.

So yeah, I'd say it's a combination of factors, and I think overall it could be helped by everyone coming to terms with not needing to have an answer or a solution to things like this all the time. We don't need to always assume that we already have enough information to adequately explain things like this, and that it's better to not have an answer than to come up with a bad one. And I think it could also be helped by understanding that just because the current "rational" answer is wholly inadequate, doesn't mean that the conspiratorial or spiritual one is any better. And I think we all need to be more aware of people's need for validation and comfort, and do our best to be more compassionate and understanding in general.

[thelreads]

Soooooo Melinda didn't eat at all, she only drank some wine. She wasn't even pretending; she had her wine glass in front of her the entire time, didn't pick up a fork. While I saw some people say that she probably felt uncomfortable eating in front of Donovan (which, yeah, understandable), I don't think we saw her eating at the tea party when she met Yor either, only drinking tea. It makes me wonder.... Donovan clearly has high expectations for his sons, and I bet he also has certain expectations for his wife as well, to maintain a certain "look".

Then on the other hand, you have Demetrius. He's been doing these family dinners for a over a decade now. He knows the rules. He's chowing down in every panel because he knows the quickest way to escape--finish your food, father excuses you, and you're done. (And also Melinda immediately excused herself after him. I'm probably reading way too much I to it but I'm imaging that Demetrius knows his mom can't leave first so he goes as fast as possible to let her leave soon too. I KNOW he probably isn't thinking about her but let me have the "has a soft spot for his mother" headcanon)

And also, while the word used is "worthwhile" I've seen some people say the original word means something like "valuable" or "of use". How was it valuable if he didn't talk at all? He didn't learn anything new... Or did he?

I think this adds to the theory that Donovan has some sort of mind reading ability. Perhaps it requires greater concentration than Anya, who just naturally hears everything--so he has to sit and concentrate on looking through people's thoughts. And further, while Anya doesn't need as much effort, she only picks up surface thoughts. Donovan might be able to really dig in deep and find more than Anya can. So, Donovan uses these dinners to pick through the thoughts of Melinda and maybe Demetrius (probably not Damien, yet, as Damien is six and he wouldn't think he'd find anything interesting there).

But circling back to the worthwhile comment: why is it worthwhile? And later, we see Donovan make a scary face when no one is looking--he's clearly thinking deeply about something. He made a similar face when he suddenly narrowed his eyes into her middle of dinner, like he noticed something strange. Well, who would have something interesting happen to them recently? Sure, Damien was held hostage, while Demetrius got full Stella stars, but I'm talking about something that Donovan would care about.

Something like the newest member of the Ladies Patriot Society.

I mean, yeah he did look to both of them before focusing on Melinda, but being honest, I don't think Yor is in any risk for now. There's nothing there that points at her being suspicious, and although I think Donovan might be controlling when it comes to his family, it's not like a new friend would be that troublesome. Unless of course Yor presence there was making Melinda think about leaving him.

Being fair, I'm more worried about the possibility Melinda is planning to have him assassinated, and he found out.

[chemdisaster]

short fic about last life scar and tcd scar meeting because i'm kind of insane about the idea

"So what's your deal?"

The grimy and unkempt young man in front of him straightens up from where he was going through his chests—which Scar is very cheesed off about, by the way—and stares at him, but gives no other indication that he heard the question. 

Scar shrugs and sits down on a barrel already previously subjected to the Great Rummage, slightly kicking his feet. 

"I mean. You show up here and immediately try to kill me, then you figure out that I'm not a zombie—duh—and now you're trying to steal my diamonds, which I've already told you you can't have. So yeah. Little confused over here."

Silence. 

"You know, I'm starting to think you might be a zombie, with how much you suck at making any sound other than grrr and uggg."

More silence. Then—

"I'm not looking for diamonds. I need a gun."

The word diamonds is spat with such derision that it makes Scar teeter between affront and awe—does he not know what diamonds are? That must be the only possible explanation, for Scar cannot imagine someone understanding the full power of the shiny rocks and choosing not to seek them out—especially in a place like this.  

"I don't—I don't have a gun," he stammers, wondering not for the first time what this strange man is on about. That he can understand at least—he maybe wouldn't mind a gun himself, if he's being honest—but everything else about the whole situation eludes him. 

"Well, what do you have then? Ammo, food, maybe a med pack?" 

"Uh, I have chicken," Scar says and flinches as the other crosses the room in three big steps to stand in front of him, holding an arm out expectantly. Sighing, he reluctantly forks over half his chicken—actually half, because this guy looks like he needs it and also he's not sure if he would get slaughtered for trying to swindle someone with this amount of obvious murderous urges—and watches as at least a quarter of what he gave away is immediately gulped down. 

"Wow."

Weird-and-apparently-starved guy wipes his mouth on his sleeve, "Fuck you."

Oh-kay. So he can swear. 

In the ensuing lull of silence, Scar takes a moment to discretely look the intruder over again, as well as make note of his voice. Somehow gritty, yet rather high, it sounds weirdly similar to his own—in fact, the owner of it looks weirdly similar to him—that is, if you ignore the short, tangled hair and general lack of personal hygiene.

What he mistook earlier for an inability to sit still turns out to be paranoia, as, the moment he's done eating his food, his beyond-bizarre doppelgänger proceeds to circle his hut at least three times, checking every entrance and exit and eventually blocking them all off with a single chest-level block. 

Apparently even that odd practice leaves him unsatisfied, however, as he then swivels around and demands, "Is this place safe?"

"Uh, depends. Mobs don't come here often and my friends aren't dangerous—most of the time," Scar amends. Then hastens to add, "Usually." Pause. "Sometimes. I'm really not sure. It—fluctuates."

He knows what he sounds like, but the man's seen worse—clearly—so he doesn't call his words into question.

Suddenly Scar is struck with a thought—does—does this guy have friends? 

He doesn't ask him this, however, and instead decides on a more neutral approach, "What's your name?"

The guy gives him a long suspicious look.

"Scar."

Scar blinks. 

"No, my name is Scar."

"Well, pick another one, then," this new—this Scar says, but it's the least threatening thing he's said so far, judging by the slightly lighter tone of his voice. Scar—the real Scar, and doesn't that sound crazy?—does wonder whether his doppelgänger-twin-alternate self?-whatever is coming to the same conclusions as him—but if he is, either he's not bothered, or he's very good at hiding it. 

His own lack of surprise surrounding the revelation that this is him from some kind of parallel universe makes him wonder less. Maybe because he's a wizard, and therefore supposed to be used to all kinds of strange phenomenons. 

Maybe he's just tired. 

Other him swings his arms around for a bit and then slides down to sit on the floor with his back rested against the wall, all his previous energy gone so fast that it would make one wonder whether it had ever been real in the first place. 

"It's cold up here," he says, with the air of someone long used to the chilly weather—or his own helplessness against it. 

After a moment's hesitation, Scar joins him on the floor, making sure that their arms are a sufficient distance apart. 

"You have an issue with the cold?"

"No. Just would've thought that maybe in another life I'd have settled somewhere else. Somewhere warmer."

A pang of pain shoots through Scar's chest. He looks away. He was about to ask this him where he was from, but now he's not so sure he wants to—he'd rather not have those same questions be directed back at him. 

He wonders what Grian would say. If he could see this other version of him that's clearly suffered more than the both of them combined. What kind of joke he would make. If he would have anything to say at all, or if he would go straight for his sword. 

If he would hesitate before deciding which one of them to use it on.

 

"Your friends try to kill you?"

Evidently, the other him has no compunction when it comes to bringing up things Scar would rather not think about—

"Yeah, well, they're not—they're not really my friends," he admits, suddenly feeling very small. "I just said that to look cool. And also because they were, or at least I think they were, but lately we haven't been talking and they only ever come 'round here for resources, so—"

He shuts up. 

Other him hums, but thankfully has no interest in digging further. The wind makes a searing noise as it rushes in and out of his hut, past the one-block barricades, and Scar wonders once again what the point of making such a stupid defence even was. He doesn't ask, however, even though he probably should, to get back at this prick for reminding him of things he spends the whole day thinking about, anyway—

A long while passes before he opens his mouth again. 

"I miss them." 

"At least you have someone to miss."

The muttered remark should sound accusatory, but it's not. It's bitter, the kind of bitter that comes with understanding exactly what kind of feeling you are talking about. The kind of bitter that says I've been where you are and I've been worse and I'm glad you don't know what that worse is like. It's one short sentence, and yet it speaks volumes as to what must have happened in that weird place that had zombies and guns but not diamonds and was as cold as a lonely hut atop an equally lonely mountain. 

Scar is well aware that this weird other version of him could kill him in the blink of an eye. But he sighs and leans into him, accepts the warmth of physical contact and the emotional warmth that neither of them will ever admit to needing. 

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a Lady - 18th century, poly, shifters x human romance - Chapter Four (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me. 

Well, thank you to the people who've shown enough interest not only to make my mood the best it's been in months, but who made chapter four happen tonight! As I said earlier, I can't keep this pace of posting up because it's currently only written to chapter 6, but if you keep reblogging with such sweet tags and comments, it might keep me writing like a little gremlin anyway! Who knows!?

Contents: fluff, friendship, some wistful and slightly angsty longing, Locryn and Edmund being adorably obvious, and Nel thinking about the coming harvest festival dance, to which all the locals are invited... Wordcount: 2825

I've been listening to this track on repeat while writing, if you want some appropriate ambience...

Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw)

For the following three days after leaving Locryn Trevethan’s cottage, Nel felt off-kilter and kept to Heath Top House, and every night, she dreamed of the sea.

She’d always been a vivid dreamer, but these were something else. Sometimes it was simply the rush and whisper of the tide on the sand, and the incoming gallop of endless white horses, but other times it was much more than that.

In the murky shadows beneath timeless kelp forests, something shifted, eel-like and strange. It coiled and twisted like a ribbon in the current, and she caught flashes and impressions of mottled green-brown skin, translucent fins, and a mouth full of teeth like needles, and a rolling, golden-green eye, and she surfaced from sleep gasping, with a name half remembered on her tongue.

She dreamed of Edmund Nancarrow too.

She dreamed of his pale, elegant hands and the way his smooth-shaven cheek had dimpled when he smiled up at her from Locryn’s bed. Strangely she dreamed of him wrapped in the silvery fur of that seal skin, lying on smooth sand, naked save for that pelt beneath him, looking up at her adoringly on the smooth sand of the cove while something shifted and circled in the water behind her with a covetous hunger.

As a scorching July drew to a close, the dreams faded and finally ceased, but while Nel was certainly grateful to get a full night’s sleep, she couldn’t help but miss that odd sense of connection they gave her; the feeling of belonging that she had never experienced before.

The days turned from searing to sultry, and the golden evenings stretched warm and luxurious as a cat by the hearth. Nel made a few visits into Polgarrack, but most of the time she either walked with Winnie around the gardens, or rode Blackthorn alone around the Penrose estates and read in the afternoons. Her days took on a gentle, lulling pattern that seemed to match the motion of the tide as much as the ticking of a clock.

Two weeks after the storm which had nearly claimed Edmund Nancarrow’s life, Winnie practically skipped into the library where Nel had been reading in the window seat for the past hour.

The sun cast long, languorous, red lines through the room and set the chandelier and the mirror on the wall sparkling. Winnie had shattered the still silence by exclaiming that the annual harvest festival dance was to be held in the great barn at Heath Top House on the first of August, and that all of the village was invited.

“I quite forgot to tell you about it, and I was reminded just this afternoon when I heard some of the farm hands talking about clearing the barn for the Lammas Dance. You’ll want a new dress, of course,” Winnie added matter-of-factly, as if she were simply stating that the sea was wet.

“What’s wrong with my dresses?” Nel asked with mock indigence, and Winnie cackled.

Nel’s chest lit up like the glowing sunset outside on hearing the elegant young lady laugh like that, and her blue eyes glittered with new life and vigour in a way they hadn’t when Nel had first arrived at the end of spring. Winnie had always been pretty, if pale and gaunt, but now in the glow of the rich summer light, she looked beautiful.

Her grief would always be there, hand in hand with her love for James, but Winnie had grown strong enough to bear her grief most days now, and to carry it about with her instead of letting it drag her down and swamp the joy from every moment of her life.

“Well, at least get some new trim for that light green one you haven’t worn yet,” Winnie said with one eyebrow raised.

So it was that Nel found herself being politely bullied into buying trim for the unworn dress late one afternoon. They took two horses from the stables instead of going in a carriage, and although Winnie wasn’t as good a rider as Nel after her summer of practice and her slightly wild childhood, they managed a sedate canter together along the clifftop path before slowing to a walk to descend into the cove where the buildings of Polgarrack nestled like so many barnacles on the rocky coastline.

They stabled Blackthorn and Rose at The Lantern, and walked arm in arm up the steep street away from the harbour and towards the aptly-named Clifftop Street. Ribbons and trim dangled all around them like flags at a May Day dance, and they spent longer than Nel expected in there, choosing trim for her dress.

Winnie laughed and let Nel hold up ribbons against her hair as if the two of them were frivolous children, not young ladies who should have behaved with a touch more decorum. Mrs. Gwinnel just watched them with a knowing smile on her lips from behind the counter though, and when she caught Nel’s eye, she inclined her head in a way that spoke of approval before she looked pointedly at Winnie, whose radiant happiness was obvious in such close quarters.

Something swelled in Nel’s ribcage at that simple gesture. She felt not only ‘seen’, but welcomed as one of their own. She had not been born in Polgarrack — not even in Cornwall — and while she’d hardly been treated rudely, folks other than Aggie had definitely been wary of someone who had travelled two hundred miles, alone, from where they were born, to live among strangers. Now though, they felt just a little less like strangers, and a little more like friends. Perhaps even cautiously like her people.

With their ribbons and trim purchased, they stepped outside again and walked together down the street to the harbour, discussing the Lammas Dance, and the corn dollies — or ‘Necks’ as Winnie called them according to local tradition — they would make to decorate the windowsills of the house. “I’m sure Aggie will show you how it’s done,” Winnie said as they came across the carter’s wife huffing up the hill.

“Show you how what’s done, m’lady?” she panted, putting one hand on her hip to catch her breath while the other was hefted a basket full of jars and pots.

“Show Nel here how to make a good Cornish Neck,” Winnie said, and Aggie’s eyes lit up. “I would offer but I’m sure mine would be terribly wonky.”

“Oh, of course!” Agatha beamed. “You just let me know when, and I’ll come over to Heath Top and give you a lesson. Both of you, if you wish it.”

They laughed and said they’d appreciate a visit whenever Aggie had the time, and the older woman flushed at the courtesy and nodded before excusing herself and labouring on up the hill.

“She’s kind,” Nel smiled after her.

“Most people here are,” Winnie said with a touch of wistfulness to her words. “They were very kind to me after James died. They loved him. He was a good employer to them at the mine. Not like the Cranmoore workings,” she added darkly, and then sighed and waved a hand to dismiss the matter. “But I don’t want to talk about that now. It’s such a beautiful evening.”

Nel knew that a lot of the workers who now laboured in Winnie’s — formerly James’ — mines had come from the Cranmoore works when conditions had grown especially dangerous, and the owners had done nothing to try to secure the tunnels. She reached for her friend’s elbow and gripped it gently. “They love you too, Winnie. You’re a fair employer and you look after them.”

She nodded, and they let the matter lie.

The iodine and salt tang of the harbour hit her nose above the soft wafting of Winnie’s perfume as the two of them rounded the corner, still linked arm in arm, and up ahead Nel spotted Edmund Nancarrow leaning against the low harbour wall, watching a small boat rowing in. He wore a soft smile on his pretty lips, and he looked simultaneously relaxed and excited. She was glad to see him looking hale again, given that the last time she’d seen him — outside of those strange dreams, of course — he had looked the next thing to crossing over.

Nel followed his gaze and, just where she’d half expected, she found the hulking figure of Locryn at the oars of the small skiff that ploughed through the glassy waters of the harbour. If her eyes lingered on the breadth of his shoulders and the curve of his biceps beneath the linen shirt he wore, she could hardly be blamed. She certainly wasn’t the only one. If Edmund was trying to be subtle about his infatuation, he wasn’t being successful at all. As if he felt her gaze on him though, Edmund twitched around a moment later and flushed when he discovered her watching him. He did muster a quick, shy smile for her though, and he knuckled his forehead politely.

Taking that as a sign that her presence was not entirely unwelcome, Nel slipped away from Winnie with a whispered, “Just a moment.”

Winnie arched an eyebrow but offered no comment beyond a very slight smile, and she carried on along the harbour road alone towards the sea wall that jutted out to protect the small port from the worst of the storms.

Edmund pushed himself off the wall, leaning on the cane in his left hand and carefully keeping his weight off his right leg. “Miss Bywater,” he said as she joined him.

“Mr. Nancarrow,” she smiled. “I’ve not seen you since the beach. I hope you’re well?”

“Yes, Miss Bywater,” he said, his warm eyes narrowing as he smiled. “And I must thank you again. I don’t remember very much about that day, but Lock — Locryn — told me what you did for me. I’m… I’m in your debt. I hope you’ll forgive me for not coming up to the house to thank you,” he added, looking chagrined. His pale cheeks flushed nearly scarlet, and he dropped his gaze to the cobblestones. “I wasn't sure it would be… uh… appropriate, if you follow…” And he cast half an eye towards Winnie, who was still strolling blithely along the gentle curve of the harbour in the sunshine some way away.

Where Nel’s hair was a little windswept and her riding habit somehow rumpled despite her best efforts, Winnie looked a vision in her foaming, sky blue dress with her bonnet affixed to her golden hair as if it had only just been placed there. Nel tried not to feel jealous of the woman’s delicate grace, but Edmund didn’t seem to have eyes for Winnie any more than he did for Nel. Of course, that was probably because he was only making polite conversation with Nel while waiting for Locryn to alight from his skiff and join him on the quayside.  

She shook her head to shake her thoughts into order. “I’m just glad you’re alright, and that Mr. Trevethan was nearby. I dread to think how I would have managed otherwise.”

“Indeed.” His eyes flickered down to the folded ribbon in her fingers but he didn’t say anything else.

“For the harvest festival,” she said, gesturing with it. “Winnie tells me I need to look presentable, though I can’t imagine who she’s trying to pair me off with.”

“Any man there would be lucky to dance with you, miss,” he said in his warm, slightly husky tenor, and his cheeks flushed again.

Nel gave a trill of laughter at that, and snorted indelicately, though not unkindly. “I think my chances of finding a man who thinks himself ‘lucky to dance with me’ are fast slipping away these days, but I appreciate your kindness all the same,” she said.

Edmund looked like he had been about to contradict her, but an earsplittingly shrill whistle from the water directly below them stole their attention and they turned to find Locryn tying up his skiff. “Give an old man a hand, would you?” he called to Edmund without looking up.

“You’re forty-two,” Edmund grinned without budging. “Hardly old. Get yourself out. You’d as soon pull me in as I’d pull you up.”

“If you ate more, you wouldn’t be so damned skinny,” Locryn grumbled, hauling himself up the metal ladder and onto the quayside to join them. Nel took a polite step or two back, but Locryn didn’t even seem to have noticed her standing there.

“You like me skinny,” Edmund muttered under his breath as Locryn joined him. Nel didn’t think that had been intended for her ears, and she felt her face heat this time.

“I like you however you are, selkie,” Locryn growled back under his breath, the sound just as heated and full of intent.

For a wild moment, Nel thought he was going to take Edmund’s face in his hands and kiss him where anyone could see, but he just stood there smouldering at him and looming over him until Edmund flushed and looked away.

Nel assumed that the unfamiliar word ‘selkie’ was some Cornish term of endearment and dismissed it, and it seemed all but confirmed when Edmund stiffened suddenly and glanced back at her with his dark eyes wide. Locryn’s tanned cheeks also turned a shade darker when he finally realised they were not alone, but he stared resolutely at her, as if daring her to make a comment.

She smiled to reassure them, hoping that she somehow managed to convey that whatever the nature of their relationship, it didn’t bother her, and that she wouldn’t speak of it. She inclined her head politely to Locryn, trying not to let that glaze of sadness fill her face again as she beheld two people so clearly in love with each other. Had Winnie and James been like that with each other too?

Yet again, Nel reminded herself that that chapter was fast closing to her now.

“Mr. Nancarrow, Mr. Trevethan,” she said and cursed the slight, choking tremble in her voice. “I wish you both the very best of afternoons.”

With what she thought was admirable amount of self-possession, she turned and walked along the quayside with the intention of joining Winnie where she had halted in the sunshine some way up the harbour road.

“We’ll see you at the harvest dance!” Edmund called suddenly after her, and she heard the soft sound of a jovial punch connecting some way behind her.

Glancing back, she saw that Locryn had playfully thumped Edmund in the chest, and the latter was rubbing his sternum comically while Locryn laughed loudly. The rich sound rolled up from his soft belly and he tipped his head back, looking truly delighted while Edmund flushed a very dark red and scowled petulantly at him. They caught her staring and she just offered a tiny smile. She could feel that it didn’t go all the way to her eyes, and she turned away as her vision blurred a little. It certainly had nothing to do with the salt-wind gusting in off the sea.

The memory of the two of them sat in her mind for the rest of the day, and even Winnie noted her quiet mood that night at dinner. “Did something happen in town?” she asked quietly as she set down her silver spoon after dessert.

Nel shook her head. “No.”

After a long pause, while Winnie’s father-in-law continued to bore his poor wife into a stupor at the other end of the table, Winnie reached for her hand and gripped it tightly. In a whisper, she asked, ���Are you happy here, Nel?”

Nel found herself taken off-guard by the question, and by the worry in Winnie’s forget-me-not blue eyes. “Of course I am,” she replied. “How could I not be?”

Winnie shrugged one shoulder. “I’m older than you, though admittedly not by much. I’ve been married, and you never have. You never talk about engagements or young men or going to London or Bath. Have you truly given up? You know it’s not too late,” she went on in a rush when Nel half-opened her mouth to stop her. “We could go to Plymouth — they have dances and balls there all the time, especially with all the officers and the Navy. I’m conscious that…” she faltered and then swallowed a too-big sip of sweet dessert wine before continuing, “I’m conscious that you’re very isolated here, Nel.”

Nel shook her head and turned her hand over to squeeze Winnie’s fingers back. “I have everything I need, I promise you.”

Winnie nodded, but she didn’t look entirely convinced as she changed the subject. “Perhaps Aggie will come tomorrow and show us how to make Necks. I never did manage it when I was a girl…”

With talk of the upcoming Lammas Dance, Nel’s mind drifted, and she wondered if Edmund and Locryn really would be there after all.

__

Next chapter ->

Things spice up a bit (just a tad, this is a slow burn after all) next time, and we get a harvest festival dance where all bets are off...

Thank you for engaging with this story of mine. It's been in the works for a long time, and I'm only just now sharing it with you, and I'm so glad it's now.

I hope you’re enjoying it and I hope you’ll consider reblogging as well as leaving a like if you enjoyed it. Take care of yourselves, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

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[frenchfrywrites]

Mammon's Morning Sickness

MINORS DNI

Dom(ish) top amab gender neutral reader, sub(ish) bottom pregnant trans man Mammon, pregnancy kink, emeto, piss, cunnilingus, mommy kink, daddy kink, demons having animalistic traits (purring, chirping, etc)

Terms used for Mammon: chest, tits, tdick, clit, pussy, cunt

Thank you to @arloheart for the commission!! Such a delight to write (haha. rhyme), thank u very much for the support <3

It's the second day in a row that you've awoken to the sound of Mammon throwing up in the bathroom. You pull yourself from the comfort of your bed, and join him where he is on the floor, hunched over the toilet.

He whimpers and groans when you wrap your arms around his waist, placing gentle touches on his upset stomach. You kiss his shoulder, holding him through it, until his body finally decides it's done.

"I dunno whats the matter with me," he pouts, slumping his full weight against your body. You rub comforting circles into his skin as you think.

"It's not something you ate?"

"'m not Beel," he huffs. You pinch him and he yelps, giving you an accusatory look. "Listen, I swear it's nothin' I ate! I've been eating all the stuff I normally do," he whines.

"No other symptoms?" you ask, feeling his forehead for a fever. Mammon shakes his head,

"Nope," he pauses to consider something, "I mean, shit there's been some kinda weird things." You hum, urging him to continue. Mammon makes himself more comfortable in your lap before continuing, "like okay, I had a really shitty headache a couple've days ago, n' I've been peeing a lot? Plus my periods late, and ugh," he folds his arms in front of his chest, "my tits have been killing me."

You consider this for a moment. None of these seem very strange on their own, but put together...

"Mammon-"

"No fuckin' way," he cuts you off. It seems like you've come to the same conclusion. "No fucking way," he repeats again, his eyes wide. You give him a sheepish look,

"I mean, it wouldn't hurt to do a test, right?" Mammon nods his head,

"Yeah, of course, we gotta-" he rises to his feet quickly, then lets out a little hysterical  breathless laugh, "right now, we gotta get one right now." He's grinning from ear to ear, quickly brushing his teeth to remove the taste of any remaining bile.

The two of you, giddy and filled with adrenaline, practically skip to the nearest drugstore. Mammon makes you pay for the pregnancy test, which is fine by you because you notice the way his hands shake as he picks it up.

"I can't wait til we get home," he tells you, yanking you towards the back of the store.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" you ask, and Mammon doesn't even answer, just drags you into the bathroom with him.

He shoves his pants down and sits on the toilet, hastily opening up the package. It takes him a while with his nerves (or excitement. Likely a mix of both), but he's finally able to pee on the pregnancy test.

The next three minutes that pass by feel like hours.

"Um, so," Mammon starts awkwardly, "if it's negative, that just means I'm sick huh?"

"Suppose so," you say, "do you... want it to be negative?"

Mammon chews the inside of his cheek, squirming from the question.

"No, I think. I think I want it t'be positive," he finally says. You smile, leaning down to kiss him sweetly,

"I do too," Mammon smiles, leaning in to kiss you again.

"'kay even if it's negative, we'll make sure it's positive soon," he laughs, a flush working its way to his cheeks. "Has it been long enough?"

You check your phone and nod. Mammon squeezes his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking down.

"Pos-" he laughs, looking up at you with wet eyes and the biggest smile, "positive!!" he squeals, thrusting the test into your hand.

You're able to catch a look at it for a moment, while he yanks up his pants, before Mammon crashes into you, wrapping you into a hug.

"Oh I love you, I love you," he cries, "I'm gonna have a baby, yer baby!"

You kiss him, all the while still holding his piss covered pregnancy stick.

There's a few minutes of tears; happy, excited, coming-off-adrenaline type tears. You hold and kiss one another until there's a knock at the bathroom door, and you're reminded of where you are.

There's a lot to do, a lot to say, but for now the two of you rush back, holding hands and giggling all the way back to the House of Lamentation.

-

Two weeks pass and you're still waking up to Mammon's morning sickness.

"Morning sweetheart," you greet him, joining him on the floor as you often do. Mammon groans, lifting his head from out of the toilet.

"Did I wake ya?" he asks sadly. You hum, rubbing his hip with one hand, and his little baby bump with the other.

"No," he breathes a sigh of relief, and then dry heaves, "how long have you been up?" you ask.

It takes Mammon a moment to answer, a wave of nausea causing him to hold his mouth open, drool dripping from his lips as he waits for something to come up. Nothing happens and he swallows, then says,

"Dunno, like half hour maybe?" your heart aches from how long he's been alone. "God I had these crazy dreams, ya wouldn't believe, 'm gonna have t'tell you about 'em," he gags, then heaves again. You figure he'll have to tell you about his dreams when he isn't being cut off by his nausea.

You're nearly certain it won't happen, but it does, suddenly. Mammon manages to throw up as you rub his clenching stomach, quietly savoring the soft feel of his skin under your fingers. Your cock has started to fill inside your sleep pants, but you pay it no mind in favor of comforting him.

"Ugh," he moans when he's done. "I think that was the last of it," he says, but the two of you stay in front of the toilet for a good couple of minutes to make sure.

"Oh no," Mammon says after a moment, and you think that means he's going to throw up again. It's only when you hear the sound of liquid hitting the tiled floor that you look down. He's wetting himself, unable to make it to the toilet even though it's right in front of him.

"Aw baby," you coo, rubbing his bladder gently. "There you go, let it all out, this is completely natural," which is true, because the new weight of the baby has been pressing against his bladder a lot these days.  

"'kay," he breathes, "feels good." You groan, letting your hand drift from his belly to his pussy. Mammon whimpers, leaning back into you.

Touching him through his wet— getting even more wet with each second— pajama pants, you press your thumb against his clit. Feeling his stream through the fabric, you listen to the way that Mammon's breath hitches. Your cock twitches as you rub circles around his hardening tdick.

Eventually he stops pissing, and the two of you are left sitting in a puddle on the bathroom floor while Mammon writhes, purrs, and moans from your touches.

"Wait, wait," he gasps. You stop your touches, "my knees hurt," he whines, and as soon as he says it, you feel a numbness in your legs.

"We can move this to the bed," you mummer seductively. Mammon whines,

"Yes, please," and with that the two of you rise to your feet. Mammon peels off his drenched pants, leaving them in the puddle to deal with later. You're both far too needy and desperate to be bothered with it now.

With sticky legs, Mammon scurries to your bed, lying himself down on his back, spreading his legs for you.

"You sure your stomach's alright?" you have half the mind to ask as you settle in the space he's made for you. Mammon huffs,

"Yeah 'm fine," he then gives you a smug look, "you'd like it even if I did get sick on yer bed anyways," and fuck, you can't argue with that.

Instead, you lean down to kiss his belly. Mammon lets out a noise similar to a squawk in surprise, like he hadn't expected you to kiss him there, like you haven't already kissed his growing belly a million times since he started to show.

Looking up you can see him staring down at you with anticipation and giddiness, his bottom lip trapped between his little fangs. You don't want to tease him much, but you can't resist the urge to lay at least twenty or so more kisses along his brown skin.

And of course, you have to give his tits a little attention too. They've been getting more full, and more sore with each passing day. You wrap your lips around his nipple and suck. Mammon cries out, because the sensation boarders perfectly on painful and relieving. You cannot wait for the day he starts leaking milk. He lets you suck and play with his tits for a while, getting so worked up over how sensitive they are.

"Ungh, please?" he whimpers eventually. You look up at him, cocking an eyebrow. Mammon flushes, then brings a hand to his mouth, and chews on the skin at the tip of his finger for a second. "Please, can ya eat me out already? Please?" he finally asks outright.

Smiling, you kiss your way from his chest, to his belly, down to his pussy. Mammon continues to chew on his finger, a clear sign that he's excited about what's to come. You kiss his inner thighs before giving his cunt any attention. His skin is sticky from his drying piss, and you're unable to stop yourself from licking the taste of it between kisses.

Above you, Mammon makes an assortment of noises, from chittering and chirping to little high pitched and breathy moans. When you eventually reach his cunt and lick between his lips, Mammon lets out a garbled pronunciation of your name.

"Yes, yeah, please, more?" he babbles, and fuck he's so wet you can't help but dive in. As you bury your face in his cunt, lapping at his hole and sucking on his clit, Mammon melts into the bed.

His legs wrap around you, his thighs clenching against the sides of your head.

"Feels good, you're so-oh good at this, it ain't fair," he whines. Instead of pulling your head away from his cunt to laugh at his comment, you purposefully scrape your teeth against his tdick.

Mammon hiccups, his legs squeezing tightly around your head, pushing your face further against his pussy.

"Yes, do that again, mommy please, gonna make me— ooh— cum, I'm gonna cu-uh!" you cut him off by again grazing your teeth lightly against him.

With a choked moan Mammon cums from your mouth. You happily lick up the slick that gushes from his pussy, practically devouring him.

Your lips find his clit again, and you suck on it, relentless even as overstimulated whimpers fall from his lips.

"Hurts," he moans, twitching in your mouth, "mama, I want yer cock."

His begging reminds you of how uncomfortably hard you are. Finally pulling away, you lick your lips, then pull back so you can get a good look at Mammon.

"Fuck, look at you," Mammon flusters under your gaze, "aw no need to get shy daddy," you coo, leaning down to kiss him. He kisses back wrapping his arms around your neck to keep you there.

"I really want ya," he pulls away from the kiss just enough to say. You groan and kiss him again before pulling back.

"Just have to get you opened up darling," you explain when he whines at the loss of your touch. He pouts as you strip your pants off and find the lube. That pout quickly dissipates when you lube your fingers and press them against his hole.

"Still feeling okay daddy?" you ask, pushing two fingers into his slick cunt. Mammon clenches around your fingers,

"Good," he breathes, "feelin' good."

You hum, smiling to yourself as you make quick work of stretching him open for your cock.

Mammon squirms a bit under your touch, but he's completely relaxed, opening up nicely for you.

"I'm ready," he whines, "c'mon n' fuck me mommy," he gasps. You curl your fingers and he chokes out a rushed, "please, please."

"That's better, daddy," you purr, and Mammon trills happily. You pull your fingers out of him slowly and gently, and then fumble for the lube.

Quickly slicking your cock with it, you hiss at the rush of pleasure that hits you as you touch yourself. In turn, Mammon whimpers, staring you down, unblinking, with his bright gold eyes.

He's already made it very clear that he's ready for you, so rather than ask him if he's feeling okay, you hold his thighs and align your cock with his pussy.

"Yes," he whispers softly when he feels your tip press into him, maybe speaking more to himself than he is to you.

Mammon squeezes and flutters around your cock as you slide into him, sighing contently, and purring up a storm.

"Oh," he gasps, when you're finally balls deep inside of him.

A question of whether or not he's okay is on the tip of your tongue, but you can't get it out before you feel a hot liquid splash against your skin.

"Oh," you muse, watching as Mammon wets himself on your cock. "Oh daddy, baby, Mammon," you moan, impulsively shallowly thrusting into him. "Was it too much? Too much in your belly, pushing against your bladder?"

He nods erratically, "yeah, ungh," you reach down to let your fingers be drenched in his piss, "fuck."

Mammon opens his mouth, inviting you to push your fingers into his mouth. He moans at the taste of his own piss, squeezing tightly around you.

You start fucking him in earnest, the two of you so worked up by him pissing all over your cock that neither one of you pay any mind to the puddle soaking into the sheets beneath you.

Mammon gurgles and drools around your fingers, clenching his soaked pussy tightly around you as you fuck him nice and deep.

Your arousal has clouded your brain, and all you can think about is how lucky you are to have Mammon under you like this. He looks so good, all wet and needy and belly swollen with your child. In the haze of your lust, the pace you've set is unrelenting, but Mammon takes it all and more, rolling his eyes back in ecstasy as you re-angle your hips and brush against his walls in a way that has him moaning and squealing around your fingers.

If you weren't chasing your own pleasure, or only thinking about how good you want to make him feel, you might have realized just how far into Mammon's mouth your fingers had sunk. You may have pulled back, and let him suck on your tongue if he wanted his mouth full.

Instead, your fingers slip, and suddenly Mammon's gagging, yanking your fingers from his mouth, and twisting so he can heave, then puke over the side of the bed.

You stare, in awe, faintly registering just how wet and tight Mammon got as he vomited.

"Fuck," you whisper as he pauses for a moment (making sure nothing else will come up), before laying back down on his back, sinking into the plush pillows under him.

"Are you okay?" you finally find the words that have been on the tip of your tongue. Mammon lets out a groan, shimmying his hips around at an attempt to feel you moving inside of him again. "Mammon, babe, I'm so sorry, are you—"

"Swear t'fuckin' christ, if you don't keep fuckin' me I'm gonna kill ya," he whines, his voice rough and scratchy. You wait a moment, checking for any little sign that he wouldn't be okay to continue. Upon finding none, you start moving your hips again.

He moans happily as your hips find the rhythm they'd set earlier, and before you know it, he's back to purring.

Your hands clutch at his thighs first, holding him open so you can look at your cock stretching and fucking his cunt. They wander, from his soft thighs, to his hips, and then finally you're rubbing his hard clit.

"Ungh-yes, yes thank you mommy," he gasps, twitching around your cock. "Close, close, gonna cum— please, can I?" you groan, feeling yourself getting close to climax as well.

"Yeah daddy," you lean down, kissing his collarbone affectionately, "hah, cum for me, baby," Mammon lets out a high keen, clinging to your skin, his nails digging into your skin, "make my cock even more messy."

And that's all it takes. With a squeal of your name, he cums, letting out hot, staccato breaths as you fuck him through it. You're close, but it's not until Mammon starts to wind down, nuzzling his face between your shoulder and neck and chirping happily, that your orgasm crashes over you.

"Mammon," you groan, fucking him full of your cum. Mammon kisses all over your skin as your climax wracks itself through your body, petting your skin and clinging to you tightly.

Once you come down from your high, you pull out slowly, and fall next to Mammon. He nuzzles himself into you, purring when you wrap your arms around him, and hold him close.

"Love ya," he murmurs softly.

"I love you too," you say, kissing the top of his head.

You lay there for a while, and you know Mammon could fall asleep like this— despite being absolutely covered in filth— so you're the one who's gotta take the lead here. You tap his hip gently,

"C'mon, let's go get you cleaned up."

His legs are wobbly and weak, but the two of you make it to the bathroom, where you plan to absolutely smother Mammon with care. As soon as you deal with the mess you left there earlier.

-

"When is this supposed to end?" Mammon whines, his head buried in the toilet as he makes his way through another bout of morning sickness.

"Somewhere between the 2nd and 3rd trimester," you answer. In response, Mammon groans. "Hey," you start, pinching his belly playfully, "y'know I'm gonna make you feel better after this, right daddy?" He lifts his head, giving you a wicked smile,

"I can't wait."

[not-the-dum-e]

Definitely gonna need to read lyrics for these songs, the music is so interesting.

Drum Beat

Straight off, great choice for title track, it's such a catchy, feel good song that sets up the pace for the rest of the album.

Onew's rapping is so good in this, it suits the song perfectly a highlight on a song full of great moments.

I love the outro, that kinda talky bit at the end sounds so nice I don't even know why but hm, hits just right.

I wish it was longer, I could listen to a five minute version of it, but I will have to settle for looping it ┐⁠(⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠￣⁠)⁠┌

Hola!

The vocal melody in the beginning of the verses reminds me a lot of latin american pop from the 70s and 80s. It's such a strange thing to me because the song instrumental itself (sans the percusion) is very different, taking sounds more specific to bosa nova, at least that is what it sounds like to me, I had not heard that combination before and gives me a strange sense of familiarity and nostalgia (at this point I was interrupted by Onew's live lol)

Made me wonder if the latin influence is on purpose, since the title is hola, if so 10/10 executed perfectly. Why haven't i heard any latin american artists do something like this?(if anyone has any recs for something that has this same kind of sound, in any language, but specially spanish please let me know)

Maestro

Contender for favorite on the album from the first listen, the bass line, the syncopation and how spacious? the chorus sounds. Floaty, idk you get what I'm saying?

The robotic voice too just fits the mood, the entire song is full of so many textures and layers, pulling forward and falling back, it's so engaging.

It reminds me a little of MGMT's Little Dark Age, but with the added charm of melodic breaks that are more grounded.

To say that I love it is just not enough.

Shape of My Heart

There is this sound in the background, that sounds to me like someone is carving/shaving ice? or perhaps sharpening a blade, i need lyrics for this one haha.

Either way the piano chords sound kinda out of tune at times, like a really old piano; or perhaps it's like a distortion —like the piano is coming in and out of focus, some chords are rattly, out of tune. This song has a lot of interesting stuff going on in the background.

The outro though, it feels like suddenly everything is finally sorted out, every element fits together by the end, the vocal melody, the chords on the piano stop sounding distorted, and it all sounds melodic and sweet. Also those backing harmonies to boost that feeling of order and peace, where before everything was extremely chaotic, going in and out of focus.

It sounds like resolution, i really need the lyrics for this one. I looped it a lot just to get this down, it's such an interesting sounding song.

월화수목금토일 (All Day)

Now I've been listening to this one quite a lot since it came out, and it still is such a feel good kinda song, which seems to be a thread through this whole album, it's so catchy no wonder he picked it for a pre-release.

It showcases his vocals beautifully, what else can I say?

Focus

The synths, the dramatic rests, come on.

I think Shape of My Heart took most of my brain power cause I'm struggling to come up with more than that, but it's a great song, great closer.

The instrumentals in the whole album compliment his voice perfectly, I can't imagine how hard it was to pick the title, half the songs in the album could be strong contenders for title.

I do wish the songs were a bit longer though, but that is just a teeny tiny thing, really.

I keep thinking about it and there is a lot of joy in this album, idk why i got that impression, because it's not like all the songs are happy, maybe it's just Beat Drum, All Day, and Hola!.

I love it so much.

It is just as 'Onew like' as Circle, even though it is so different.

I hadn't really realized how much I had missed him during this hiatus, and it seems to have hit me all at once now. I'm so happy that he is back and maybe that plays a role on it too.

It does seem like the ten months of rest did wonders for him and I can feel a huge amount of joy in the music. He seems to be really happy to be back making music again, and it shows in every second of this album.

He really seems to know how to express himself through music, and it's just wonderful to be here to witness it💖

[andypantsx3]

tags/warnings: dabi x gn!reader, runaway prince touya au, ambiguously established relationship, some violence, slightly yandere at the end, sfw

length: 1k

"You're him," you breathe, a strange kind of terror zinging through your veins. "You're the missing crown prince."

Dabi—Touya, that is now—just arches a brow at you in that dismissive way he has.

"Thought you said you didn't care about my past, sweetheart. Walking that back now?" he drawls.

His voice is the same smoky rasp as always, tinged with an undercurrent of boredom, as though there is nothing about this revelation that has discomfited him.

"Why join a league of antimonarchists if you're quite literally a future monarch?" you ask, drawing back. Unconsciously, your hand goes to the knife pouch at your waist.

Touya's eyes follow the motion, and a smirk cuts across his mouth. "Why might a wolf creep into a sheep's pen, you mean?" he asks.

Your hands ball into fists at your side. You can feel your muscles shivering with the barely-restrained need to do something. You're certain what you want most is to punch him—a bold move on a good day, considering he's one of the League's most dangerous assets—but now the idea carries new weight.

He might be here, in antimonarchist headquarters. But if you punched him, you'd be punching the future sovereign of your country—an offense that carries a death sentence.

"Have you been spying on us?" you demand.

Touya laughs, leaning in like he's delighted with the question. "Oh no—I've been using you. There's a difference."

With his face this close to yours, you can pick out the changes this new information has wrought on his features. He's always been an arresting sight—his face full of stitches and metal, the skin under his eyes and mouth the purple bruise of old burns. But he's also always been darkly handsome—the damage to his face not enough to disguise the careful, sensuous lines of his features.

You see now that he looks so much like Prince Shouto—which makes sense. They're brothers.

"I'm going to have to take you in," you tell him. "Whatever your reasons, you're a liability now. Leadership will figure out what to do with you."

Touya's laugh is dry and crackling. "You? You're going to take me in, sweetheart?"

You scowl. You know you're not nearly equipped to fight him—you're more of a logician, and he's a brawler. He's got years of swordsmanship under his belt, and molten hot stores of fire magic at his disposal. He's also undoubtedly taller, broader, and stronger than you.

The odds don't look good, but you know he can't walk free after this.

You don't have a choice.

"You could come quietly," you tell him.

Touya snorts. "Doesn't sound much like me."

Your hand is back at your knife pouch, and you watch Touya closely for any sign of his magic—you've seen it before, an instantaneous inferno of blue flame impossible to escape at close range. Your best chance is to back away to safer distance and try to pin him with your daggers.

You will have to be fast.

But Touya is faster.

Quick as a viper, he strikes first. Blue flames rage into existence just past your shoulder blade, a line of fire shooting along the side of the room. It's so hot it feels you can feel the burn of it through your shirt, though it hasn't touched you yet.

You yank your dagger from your belt, lunging for Touya's ribs. Fire blazes to life in his fingers, roaring out in a hungry wave, and you're forced to stumble back to dodge it.

Blindly, you fling your dagger towards his shoulder, but Touya lunges through the flames feet away, and you hear the metallic clatter of your knife on the ground.

More fire pours from Touya's hands, lashing around the room in a sapphire wave. It feels like all the oxygen has been sucked from the room, the air thick and burning in your throat. The air shimmers with the heat, and your eyes water.

Too late, you realize Touya's burned a circle around you, cutting off any route of escape. You grasp your remaining dagger, warily eyeing the growing blaze.

Touya steps through his own flames just in front of you, grinning. He's always liked a fight, has always come out of them invigorated—and even this measly matchup has clearly pleased him.

"Touya, please, I'll ask you again to come quietly," you say, though you know very well your odds of besting him have just plunged to zero. You can't get a safe distance away, now—he could light you up in an instant.

But he doesn't make a move to. Instead, he looks thoughtful, those burning blue eyes flickering over you. "It sounds even better in your mouth," he says.

For a wild moment, you wonder what he's on about. But then you realize you've said it out loud—his birth name, where before he was only ever Dabi to you. The tips of your ears burn, independent of the fire blazing around you.

"But I won't be coming with you, sweetheart," Touya continues, stepping even closer. "No, even better. You'll be coming with me."

You swipe out at him as he comes within range, but his hand snaps out to catch your wrist, twisting expertly until you've dropped your knife. You grunt in pain.

"Let go," you gasp, kicking out at him. He easily wrangles you closer, until you're pressed against him with your arms twisted behind your back.

He's inhumanly warm, and this close he smells like ashes and smoke, with that rich, dark undercurrent like cinnamon you've always associated with him. You tell yourself you don't like it as much as you thought.

But Touya just grins, pressing his mouth to your ear, much closer than he needs to to deliver his pronouncement.

"Not ever," he says, low and raspy, before huffing a laugh. He bites the shell of your ear, a sudden flash of sharp teeth. Despite yourself, a shiver wracks your body. Touya shifts you, angling you closer against him.

"Now hold still, sweetheart," he says.

Before you can beg him not to do it, in a sudden flare of pain at the base of your skull, the world goes dim.

[ferniliciousness]

Weathered, dark brown journal, embellished with golden thread in the design of a hallas head. First page holds two words, Feora Lavellan.

10th of Solace 9: 44 - It hit me finally today. For the first time in... Well too many years, there is no plan, there is no set path forward. The inquisition is nothing more then a memory and I am once again just an elf with a tattooed face.

And gods have a missed it.

My feet are taking me back up to the free marches, to my clan. The words sound strange to say now. The people I called family for nearly 20 years feel even less like home now. Now that home is missing.

Elgara has been my only company these past weeks, making some burdens less tiresome to carry. Some days he is the only thing keeping me walking. But, all I can do right now is push that aside. I dont think I'm ready to unpack my heart yet.

19th of Solas 9: 44 - I know these woods. Soon enough we will pass by the city of my birth. I wonder if the ashes are still there, if the fields are still full of wheat and the well bucket still leaks. I wonder if they still hate elves and magic, or if this whole ordeal knocked a little sense into them. In any case I could just throw up the inquisitor card for the first time if they start trouble.

Imagine. The little elf mage they drove out in fear showing up 20 years later as the woman who saved the world. I would love to see the look on those damn templars faces.

I don't know.... Maybe I will go.... Elgara will be fine a day on his own..... And I don't think I'm ready to see my clan again after all....

22 of Solace 9: 44 - the plot was still empty. Even in a sea of new homes and streets I've never seen, where my home once stood is still an empty barren patch. So much had changed, yet so much was still the same. The chanty moved, the old building burnt and crumbling, probably a victim of the breach.

No one seemed surprised I was there. The usual disgusted glances from elders but elves and shem alike all just nodded my way. Maybe the arm gives me away, or I guess the giant eyeball sewed into my cloak...... Yeah probably that. No one seemed alarmed by my staff, and in fact I saw a few mages in the city all treated the same as me.

It's strange in a way. Seeing a place so familiar yet so foreign. So many memories coming fresh to my mind. All from smiles and laughter, to the grabbed ears and drunken curses.

I saw Calen. He's a circle mage now. Well, what's left of the circle anyway. Said he was helping to lead the younger mages. He said he was..... Sorry.... For what happened. I know it wasn't his fault but it still felt nice